If You Were Me, I'd Be Irish
by Kkarrie
Summary: What do you do when a head detective is hung over and can't give the lecture he's supposed to? If you're Shawn Spencer, you pretend to be that head detective. With an Irish "psychic", a psychic "head detective" and a real murder. Who will solve the case?
1. Chapter 1

AN: Due to some reviews I've gotten I thought that I should just put something here at the beginning of the story. This is inot/i a Shassie story. I don't ship Shassie and I don't write it. That being said, I do hope you read and enjoy my story, but don't expect something that won't happen.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

Carlton Lassiter may have been humming to himself as he drove down the highway on his way from Santa Barbara to Sacramento. He had been invited to give a lecture on proper gun safety by the Sacramento Police Department at their annual statewide Police Training Weekend. Lassiter had been to many conventions, but the Sacramento convention was the best of the best in his opinion. It was by invitation only and he had finally received the coveted envelope in the mail a few months earlier.

He smiled to himself as he thought about the weekend ahead of him, a weekend free from the incompetence of the rookie officers and the annoyance of Shawn Spencer and his never ending 'psychic' visions. As he passed a road sign that said Sacramento was only sixty miles ahead, Lassiter checked his watch and saw that he was exactly on time. The eight hour drive had been a small price to pay to save from having to fly. Carlton never liked having to be frisked down at the airport, they claimed it was because he tried to take his glock with him, but he knew it was because the security guards were mad they never got to be actual policemen.

The song changed and _Don't Stop Believin' by_ Journey filled the car. Lassiter started humming again only to hear another person humming with him. Lassiter flicked his gaze from the road to the rear-view mirror. No one was in the backseat. He looked back at the road, but the humming kept going. Lassiter turned off the radio to see if possibly it was just a bad recording. The humming went on for a little while and then the last sound Lassiter expected to hear came from the backseat.

"Awww, c'mon Lassie it was just getting to the good part!" Shawn Spencer's complaining voice filled the car.

Lassiter abruptly pulled off to the side of the road and once the car was turned off, turned in his seat and stared the psychic in the eyes. "What the Hell are you doing in my car, Spencer?" Lassiter yelled at him. "Do you have any idea where I'm going?"

Shawn ignored both of Lassiter's questions and gave a big yawn, stretching out his arms at the same time. "You really have a bigger selection of music than I thought, Lassifrass. Kelly Clarkson? She's pretty cool." Shawn said reaching up into the front seat to grab the detective's ipod.

Lassiter shoved Shawn into the backseat again. "Spencer, we're a good seven hours from Santa Barbara. Have you been back there the entire time?" He asked scowling.

Shawn shrugged. "Well obviously, I just thought you could use some company on this little trip you're taking. Gus is away at Pharmacy camp and I know Jules' family is doing a big picnic this weekend so she can't come and let's face it, you really don't have very many friends besides us."

Lassiter couldn't believe what he was hearing. He knew Spencer was irresponsible, but he never would have guessed the younger man would have stowed away on a business trip. "You are not going to the convention with me." Lassiter said articulating every word carefully. "The second we get to Sacramento I'm putting you on the next flight home." With that he restarted the car and pulled back into traffic. Spencer started to say something, but stopped when Lassiter gave him a death glare in the mirror.

O-O-O-O

It amazed Lassiter to no end that Spencer stayed quiet for the rest of the drive to Sacramento. In fact he stayed quiet until Lassiter pulled into a parking space at the hotel. Lassiter grabbed his black, practical suitcase out of the trunk and rolled his eyes when he saw Spencer had a multi-colored duffel bag of his own.

Lassiter went through the door of the hotel and strode briskly up to the front desk. "I have a reservation," He snapped at the desk attendant.

The girl behind quickly pulled up something on the computer in front of her. "What name was the reservation under?" She asked him.

Lassiter scowled as the girl squeaked out the question in a small, mouse like voice that went perfectly with her small frame, practical haircut and glasses. "Lassiter, Carlton Lassiter." He said handing the girl the conformation information he'd received from the convention.

"Yes sir, we have you in room 415." She said. "Would you like one key or two?" She looked over Lassiter's shoulder to Shawn.

Lassiter looked over to the psychic as well, having forgotten he was there. "Just one, he's not staying." Lassiter said taking the key from her and then heading for the elevator. Shawn gave the girl a wink and then jogged to keep up with Lassiter. It was easy for Lassiter to find his room and he quickly let himself in. The moment his suitcase hit the floor next to the standard hotel room dresser Lassiter pulled his department issue laptop from his briefcase and turned it on.

Shawn flopped down on the bed and reached for the remote. "What're you looking up Lassifrass?" He asked flipping through the channels on the TV.

"I'm booking you on the next flight out of here." Lassiter snapped his eyes focused on the screen.

"Why would you want to do that?" Shawn objected. "I think this hotel is pretty sweet and with this convention thing going on there will be tons of interesting people."

Lassiter looked up briefly from the computer and frowned when he saw Spencer reclining on the bed. "For your edification Spencer, I was looking forward to this weekend, because it meant I was going to be away from you and your psychic bull crap for four consecutive days." He looked back at the computer screen and swore. "The earliest flight out of here is tomorrow morning at 10."

"Oh, that's alright there's a Simon and Simon marathon on right now." Spencer said setting the remote down on the nightstand and settling in to watch his show.

Lassiter opened his mouth to tell the psychic to get his feet off the bed, but before he could say anything his cell phone rang.

Shawn watched out of the corner of his eye as Lassiter pulled the phone out his pocket. The detective looked at the caller ID and any color he had in his pasty complexion drained. Shawn narrowed his eyes when Lassiter didn't answer the phone, but headed for the hallway.

Once Lassiter was in the hall away from Spencer's prying ears he answered his phone. "Carlton Lassiter," He said hoping his voice was even. He knew who was on the other end of the phone. He had dialed that number more times then he was proud to admit hoping that his wife, ex-wife he corrected himself, would let him move back in. He listened as Victoria explained why she had called months after he had finally signed those damn divorce papers. She was talking about him still having something of hers, at least that's what Lassiter thought she was saying. As strong as he liked to think he was, hearing her voice was ruining all the separation he maintained and mental blocks he'd given himself since the last time he'd seen her. He realized there was silence on the other end of the line. "Yes, I'll look for those as soon as I get back in town." He promised her. She seemed satisfied and hung up without saying good-bye. Lassiter slowly closed his phone. There was only one thought going through his head at that moment and that was to go downstairs to the hotel bar and get a scotch to settle his nerves. He turned on his heel and headed for the elevator.

As the credits rolled Shawn stretched and looked at the clock. They had gotten to the hotel around eight-thirty and it was now almost two in the morning. Shawn had lost track of the time during the marathon and realized he was getting pretty hungry. He looked over to the table where Lassiter's laptop was. He had been giving the detective a running commentary on all the episodes and only just now realized that Lassiter hadn't even come in from the hallway after answering his phone. Shawn pulled out his own phone and dialed Lassiter's number while he started down the hall towards the vending machines. There was no chance that a pizza place would be open this late and Shawn was willing to settle with a package of peanut M&M's and if he was lucky a couple of poptarts. Lassiter's phone went to voicemail and Shawn frowned at that. Even if Lassiter was still mad about Shawn stowing away on the trip, he would answer his phone so he could yell and Shawn and remind him how mad he was. Besides, the detective was never out this late unless he was working a case.

Shawn made a quick turn and headed down the lobby. There was now an older man behind the counter. Shawn flashed him and smile. "Hi there, I was wondering if you'd seen a tall, lanky man with an Irish hair line and a fierce scowl walk by recently." Shawn inquired.

The man behind the counter rolled his eyes and motioned towards the entrance to the hotel's bar across the lobby. "Your friend's in there," He grumbled.

Shawn thanked him and then headed for the bar. As he got closer he could hear some voices and some singing. Shawn poked his head inside and saw the bar was almost empty. The bartender was leaning against the counter and gave him a nod as Shawn walked in. There was a young couple sitting very close and laughing at one side of the room. Shawn quickly noticed brand new wedding rings on their fingers. There was an older lady sitting at one end of the bar with a bottle of wine in front of her, the daily paper sitting on the stool next to her.

The only other person at the bar was Lassiter. Shawn had to triple check to make sure he was seeing what his mind was telling him he was seeing. Lassiter was in a corner of the bar where the karaoke machine had been set up for the night. He was standing there with the microphone and was oblivious to the fact the machine was no longer on. If Shawn's ears weren't deceiving him the detective was singing _Single Ladies _and swaying drunkenly.

"Lassie?" Shawn asked as he got close to the very drunk detective.

Lassiter's eyes slowly moved from their unfocused upward direction to look at the psychic. "Spencer!" He proclaimed, throwing out his arms slightly losing his balance. "Awww, you brought a friend too." He reached out a hand and tried to pat the empty air to Shawn's right.

"Whatcha doing?" Shawn tried be casual as he watched Lassiter.

"I'm drinking!" Lassiter said proudly. "Would you like a drink? I can get you one."

"No, it's alright, Lassie, I'm fine. I think we should get you back to the room." Shawn said, reaching out a hand to help Lassiter off the slightly raised platform.

"Psh, the party's just getting started." Lassiter slurred and batted Shawn's hand away. Shawn wasn't exactly sure what to do. He'd never seen Lassiter let go like this before. He'd seen him drunk, but this was different. "Here Spencer, take this," Lassiter handed Shawn his cell phone. "and call that woman for me. Tell her I don't have her stupid figurines and even if I did I'd have shot them to a million pieces by now." He sobered up slightly as he said the last part.

Then the truth hit Shawn. He quickly checked Lassiter's phone calls and saw the one he'd received before he disappeared was from a number labeled 'Victoria'. Shawn had never met Lassiter's ex-wife, but he figured any woman crazy enough to say yes to Lassiter's proposal had to be completely off her rocker. Shawn was still thinking this through when Lassiter decided he did want to get down and half stumbled, half fell onto Shawn trying to do so. They both landed on the floor.

"C'mon Lassie," Shawn said pulling the man to his feet. "let's go to bed. At least you'll be able to sleep it off."

Lassiter stopped moving as Shawn said this. He shook his head a little and winced. "No, no can't sleep. I have to give a presentation in the morning." He mumbled.

Shawn ended up half dragging Lassiter up to the hotel room. He pushed the detective onto the bed and then fell asleep on the couch himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Shawn woke up the next morning to a hurried knock on the door. He stumbled over and looked out the peephole to see a uniformed officer standing outside the door. Slowly Shawn opened the door and poked his head out. The officer, who Shawn could clearly see was a rookie from the lapels on his uniform, straightened and saluted Shawn.

"Detective Lassiter, the chief sent me up here to make sure you were coming to your lecture."

Shawn cocked his head to the side. "What are you talking about… Williams?" He asked looking at the name badge the rookie was wearing above his shirt pocket. Shawn was still a little groggy from getting to sleep so late the night before.

"Your lecture on gun safety, it starts in twenty minutes." Williams fidgeted slightly. "You need to get down there before the chief cancels it." His voice cracked at the thought of that and Shawn was briefly reminded of the first few cases he had worked with McNab.

Shawn glanced over his shoulder into the hotel room. Lassiter was sprawled on his back across the bed still wearing yesterday's pants and shirt. His hair was a mess and he looked like a truck had hit him, twice. Shawn briefly considered how many times Lassiter would shoot him for what Shawn was about to do and then shook his head and turned back to Williams.

"Let me get my things, I'll be down in a minute." Shawn promised. Williams nodded and headed back down the hall. Shawn shut the door. The noise woke up Lassiter. "How do you feel Lassie?" Shawn asked.

Lassiter winced and slowly sat up. "Stop shouting Spencer." He hissed out as he held his head in his hands.

Shawn walked over to the detective. When Lassiter didn't budge, Shawn reached out and gently placed a hand on Lassiter's head, the fact the detective didn't flinch proved Shawn's hypothesis that Lassiter was still very, very hung over. "Lassie, the spirits are telling me that you're hung over, in fact you might still be drunk."

"Spencer, I can't be drunk." Lassiter protested, more as if to convince himself than the psychic. "I have a presentation to give at ten this morning."

Shawn glanced at the clock and saw it was 9:45. Williams had been right about cutting it close. He looked back at Lassiter. The detective was just sitting on the edge of the bed breathing softly.

"Lassie, it's only eight." Shawn lied to him. "You get some more sleep and I'll wake you up when it's time." Lassiter didn't say anything, but slowly nodded and let himself fall back down on the bed again. Once Shawn was sure he was asleep he put his plan into action. Lassiter had done some favors for him in the past and Shawn knew that now was the time to repay him for that. He quickly changed into a new set of clothes and at the last minute grabbed one of Lassiter's blazers from the detective's suitcase and the detective's briefcase from where it sat on the table. With that he headed down for the convention.

O-O-O

It didn't take Shawn long to find the convention. He just needed to follow the men that looked like cops. Shawn knew they were cops because they carried themselves just like his father had done when Shawn was younger. They were all wearing suits, their hair was neatly combed and every single one of them had a gun clipped to their belts or strapped to their shoulders. A few noticed Shawn and gave him a funny look. Shawn had donned Lassiter's jacket and he realized just how long the detective's arms were. He had needed to roll the sleeves up in order to use his hands and he didn't think the detective had ever worn his navy blazer with a bright orange and red striped polo shirt and jeans before.

Shawn noticed a registration table and headed for it. Williams was standing by the table and Shawn quickly walked over to him. When he saw Shawn, Williams gave a sigh of relief.

"Here is your nametag and conference schedule." Williams said as he handed Shawn a badge on a lanyard and a handful of papers. "Would you like me to escort you to Room A, where you'll be giving your lecture?" He asked looking hopefully up at Shawn. Shawn gave him a smile.

"That would be great Williams, may I call you Williams?" Shawn was kissing up to the rookie and he knew it, but he needed to have an in with the cops even if it was with the low man on the totem poll. He followed to rookie down the hall to a conference room. There were rows of chairs set up and at the front was a podium. For once in his life Shawn was thankful for Lassiter's ineptness with technology. If there had been a power point to go with the lecture Shawn would have been in trouble. The chairs were fairly packed. It was almost time for Shawn to start Lassiter's lecture. As Shawn stepped up to the podium and was introduced by the chief of the Sacramento Police Department he tried to remember everything his dad had ever told him about guns and gun safety.

"Rule number one; never look down the barrel of your gun. Rule number two; no matter how trustworthy he may look never give a monkey your gun." Shawn laid out for the crowd, earning himself a few chuckles. Shawn grinned; maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

O-O-O

Lassiter woke up again. His head was still throbbing a little and he could barely remember what had happened. He slowly sat up and tried to sort through what had happened and why. He remembered getting to the hotel and Spencer. He remembered trying to book a flight for Spencer and Victoria calling. His stomach dropped. Victoria had called and then he'd gone drinking. He had been at the bar, but that was when it was dark, it was light outside now and…. Carlton's thoughts were all over the place and then it hit him. He was supposed to be giving his lecture. He glanced over at the clock and swore loudly when he saw it was almost noon. He haphazardly grabbed clothes to put on and swore louder when he couldn't find his dress shoes. He vaguely remembered taking them off last night at the bar. He resigned himself to taking a pair of Shawn's converse and thanked whoever had given Spencer the same size shoe as himself. He dashed out the door and down to the conference room. Lassiter had taken the liberty of memorizing the hotel schematics to know exactly where he would be giving his lecture.

O-O-O

Lassiter sprinted to the lobby and then quickly slowed his pace. He was hoping no one would notice his wrinkled pants and shirt. He looked in a mirror and scowled when he saw his reflection. In his haste he had grabbed one of Spencer's many colored shirts. It was a particularly awful shade of green. Thankfully he was still wearing his own grey suit pants and the navy converse didn't clash that badly. He casually glanced around the hotel lobby and spotted Spencer talking with several people in a corner by a potted plant. He walked over to them and could hear Spencer telling a story.

"No, seriously my dad was teaching me to shoot and the clay pigeon misfired and I followed it. I hit it too, although I also hit the front window on my dad's truck." Spencer was exuding friendliness and Lassiter could barely stand the fakeness he was seeing from the younger man. "I think my dad was so proud I finally hit something that he didn't make me pay for the window." One of the men in the circle laughed loudly and then said something that made Lassiter's eyes narrow.

"You know Carlton, when I first invited you to the conference, your record made me think you'd be a stuck up, pain in the ass." He clapped Shawn on the back.

Shawn smiled and coughed as the wind got knocked out of him. That's when Shawn noticed Lassiter. Lassiter watched as Spencer froze for a minute. Lassiter could almost see the wheels turning in the younger man's brain. "Gentlemen, allow me to introduce a vital part of the Santa Barbara Police Department." Shawn said stepping out of the circle and pulling Lassiter into it. "This is Shawn Spencer our resident psychic consultant."

"Psychic?" One of the oldest men asked, raising an eyebrow. His close cropped hair and bushy mustache reminded Lassiter of a former detective he had been under before. That guy had been a stickler for the rules and had taught Lassiter to abide by them. The psychic charade Spencer made him endure would have upset him to no end. It looked like this detective was no different.

"Yes, psychic," Shawn nodded and threw and arm around Lassiter's shoulders, ignoring the fact that Lassiter was glaring daggers at him. "I know what you're going to say, and I will admit it's an unconventional technique at best, but the chief has been encouraging me to use Spencer's talents more and we've had some astounding results."

Lassiter could feel the other three men in the circle looking his appearance up and down and it made him uncomfortable. "Detective Lassiter." Lassiter managed to hiss out. "May I talk to you over there for a minute?" He pointed to an empty corner of the lobby.

Shawn gave a smile and waved him off. "Not right now, Spencer. Can't you see I'm-"

Lassiter grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to a corner of the lobby, ignoring the looks from the senior cops. "What the Hell do you think you're doing, Spencer?" Lassiter snapped at him when they were out of earshot. "Impersonating an officer is highly illegal."

Spencer shrugged. "Ease up a little, Lassifrass." He shrugged off Lassiter's grip on his arm.. "I'm not the one who got smashed last night and sang Beyonce."

Lassiter opened his mouth to respond and then shut it when he realized Shawn was right.

"The conference is only this weekend and then we'll go back to Santa Barbara and everything will go back to normal." Shawn continued, a smile on his face. "You'll go back to being uptight and a rule stickler and I'll return to being awesome and carefree."

Lassiter glared daggers at Shawn. "Fine," he consented realizing this was the only way to escape immense humiliation. "but if you put one toe out of line we're leaving."

Shawn smiled and Lassiter immediately regretted his decision. "That's great Spencer!" Shawn proclaimed loudly for the group of men to hear. "We can worry about that later."

Lassiter scowled slightly as he watched Spencer join the group of ihis/i peers. This was the worst possible thing that could happen this weekend. He should have just locked the psychic in the bathroom as soon as they'd gotten to the hotel last night. 'But then you'd be in an even worse place,' the little voice in the back of his head reminded him as Lassiter looked across the hotel lobby to the entrance to the hotel bar. He sighed and headed for it, he might as well get his shoes.

Lassiter ducked his head as he walked past the bartender, the same from the previous night... at least Lassiter thought he was. His polished dress shoes were sitting underneath the table where he'd started his drinking the night before. Lassiter thought about putting them on, after all he hated the colorful shoes Spencer always wore. As Lassiter set about untying the tennis shoes, he got an idea. If Spencer was "head detective" then Spencer should dress like a head detective. Head detective's didn't wear tennis shoes to conferences... Lassiter gave a small grin and went to find Spencer.

Shawn was standing talking to a different group of police officers, this set much younger then the first. "So, is it decided? Chinese food for lunch." He gave a grin and a wink to the youngest of the group. "Dibs on the extra fortune cookie."

"Detective Lassiter," Carlton felt incredibly odd calling his own name across the lobby.

Shawn's head whipped around and he saw Lassiter carrying a pair of shoes. There was a look in the detective's eyes that Shawn wasn't sure he liked. "Yes," Shawn was going to tread carefully.

"You forgot your dress shoes," Lassiter offered Spencer the neatly polished leather shoes. "I thought you might want them. That way you can give me my tennis shoes back."

Shawn looked down at his feet. He was wearing his purple chucks, his favorite pair. The navy ones Lassiter wore had been his back-up shoes.

"Detective," Lassiter's voice broke into Shawn's thoughts. "your shoes."

Shawn looked up to see Lassiter giving him a challenging look, as if daring Shawn to not put on the shoes.

"Just put the shoes on," One of the policemen urged Shawn. "Then we can go get lunch."

Shawn reluctantly took the proffered shoes and grabbed the nearest chair to change into them. "Damn it, Spencer." He mumbled, mimicking Lassiter's typical frustrations. He glanced up at Lassiter, who was watching him with his arms crossed. When he caught Lassiter's eye, the detective smirked at him. Shawn shook his head. If Lassiter wanted to play games, then it was on.


	3. Chapter 3

If it had been up to Lassiter, he would have grabbed a power bar for lunch and then spent the rest of the afternoon attending lectures, by people who were less qualified then himself. Then he would have finished the night in the hotel bar, sipping a beer and debating the finer points of a hostage situation with an officer old enough to not have been going through puberty when Lassiter was starting his career. However, thanks to this charade that Spencer had concocted, Lassiter was being forced to be social. He had managed to get out of going to the Chinese restaurant with Spencer and the band of incompetents who called themselves policemen. Unfortunately Lassiter had been cornered by a very curious rookie officer who had a million questions about what being a police psychic was.

"So, do you actually have visions about the victims?" She was hanging onto every word that Lassiter spoke as if they were precious gems of knowledge.

Lassiter could practically feel his skin crawling as he looked at the girl. She couldn't be more then two or three years out of police academy. Her dark hair was pulled back in a perfect bun and her glasses were a very strong prescription. It hadn't been that long since Lassiter had been on a date, and the rookie was obviously flirting with him. If Lassiter was honest with himself, it was a little disturbing. She was going on about how she hadn't really gotten to solve any cases, but she really wanted to, as well as, how she hadn't really fired a gun, but she really wanted to.

"I've also never arrested anyone," The rookie continued, not noticing that her question from earlier hadn't ever been answered.

"But let me guess." Lassiter interrupted her, speaking for the first time since she sat down. "You've always wanted to?"

"Detective Lassiter?" The rookie missed his barb, she'd been distracted by a new comer.

Lassiter jerked his head up. Spencer was walking quickly across the lobby. He hadn't even been gone for an entire hour.

"Hey, L-Spencer." Shawn tried to be gruff as he came up to the set of comfy chairs the rookie had forced Lassiter to sit in. "I need to talk to you over here," He reached out to grab Lassiter's arm and pull him towards a more private area.

Lassiter was torn. He really didn't want to talk to the rookie officer any more, but he also had no inclination to talk with Spencer, about anything.

"But Mr. Spencer hasn't gotten through telling me about how he reads a crime scene." There was a slight edge of a whine in the rookie's voice now and she actually reached out her hand to touch Lassiter's arm.

That settled it. Lassiter sprang up from his chair and followed Spencer over to the wall.

"Way to put the moves on the slightly cute, but really more adorable in a pug puppy kind of way officer," Shawn gave Lassiter an almost affectionate pat on the arm.

Lassiter scowled and shrugged him off. "Shut it," He gave a small glance over his shoulder and saw the rookie still watching them. "I didn't put the moves on her, and the only reason she likes me is because she thinks I'm you. What did you want to talk to me about anyway?"

Spencer ducked his head. "Well, you know, I was at lunch with the guys, and they're really nice. So I kind of sort of," He back away out of Lassiter's reach and he talked. "I invited them up to our hotel room for some drinks tonight."

Lassiter managed to grab the sleeve of his blazer that Spencer was still wearing. He pulled the younger man close. "One problem with that, Spencer. It isn't iour/i hotel room. My name is on the reservation, not yours."

"Technically for the weekend, it is my name," Shawn slowly eased Lassiter's hand from it's iron grip on the sleeve. "Easy, Lassifrass, you're going to wrinkle your suit."

"If there are any charges to my room, you can bet that you'll be paying for them." Lassiter informed Shawn. "Remember the last time you paraded around pretending to be me."

"Don't worry about it," Spencer promised, making a ridiculous salute.

Lassiter headed in the opposite direction. Not because he had anything he wanted to do, but because it was the direction away from the rookie, who had waited for them to finish their conversation.

Lassiter grumbled to himself as he headed for the elevator. It was nearly two in the morning and Spencer had just texted him that the party was over. Going to bed this late the second night in a row was going to mess with his sleep schedule. As Lassiter turned the corner from the lobby he quickly ducked through the door to the stairwell. The older detective Spencer had been talking to earlier that day was also waiting for the elevator. It wasn't that Lassiter didn't want to talk to him. Lassiter just hadn't gotten his exercise for the day. At least that's what Lassiter told himself as he started climbing up the four flights of stairs to his room.

Three flights up, Lassiter tripped up the stairs. "Damn it," He swore under his breath and straightened, gingerly flexing his hands. Lassiter had used them to brace his fall. As he turned them over to look at the palms, to see if they were scraped at all, Lassiter involuntarily flinched. There were smears of blood on them. Lassiter looked up and swore again. The rookie from that afternoon, the one Lassiter had been calling Chatty Cathy in his head, was lying on the landing above him. Judging from the blood on his hands and the sizable wound on her head, she'd fallen. This late at night, no one would have been looking for her.

With a little grin self-satisfaction, Lassiter wiped one of his hands on Spencer's shirt. He then pulled out his cell phone and dialed the psychic's number.

"Lassikitten!" Spencer's overly cheery voice greeted him. No doubt the psychic had been drinking.

"Spencer," Lassiter made his voice as serious as possible. "I need you to come see me in the stairwell."

"I don't meet men in the stairwells at night," The grin at the end of that statement was audible.

"Shut it, Spencer, this isn't a joke." Lassiter snapped, staring above him at the corner where the wall and ceiling met, to avoid having to look at the glassy eyes of the rookie.

"I know, I know," This time Spencer's voice came both over the phone and from the stairs above Lassiter. "Woah! Who is the dead person?"

"It's the rookie I was talking to earlier. Don't step any closer." Lassiter held up a hand as Shawn walked down a couple of more steps.

"That's my shirt!" Shawn protested as he saw the blood smear across Lassiter's stomach.

"I'll buy you a new one," Lassiter snapped at him. "Let me call the front desk." He shook his head. "Stupid way to die, falling down the stairs."

Shawn raised his hand to his temple. "She didn't fall,"

"No! None of that," Lassiter pointed a finger at him. "You are not psychic this weekend."

"Lassie, this girl didn't fall, she was murdered."

"I don't see any indications that she was pushed."

"That's because I'm higher up then you."

Lassiter sighed. He wiped the remainder of the blood off his hands and carefully avoiding the body, hoisted himself up over the railings. Once he was standing next to Shawn he looked at the body.

"Don't you see it?" The younger man prodded. "C'mon, Lassie, my dad's not psychic and he's one of the best detective's the department ever had. He'd be able to see it."

Lassiter glared at him, and then focused on the body. "She didn't brace her fall." He looked back to Shawn. "She was hit from behind, that's where the wound came from. This was murder."

"So now's when we call the cops," Shawn gave him a grin. "Then I have a couple of visions, we find the killer and get paid for it."

"Hold your damn horses, Spencer." Lassiter snapped. "Unless you've forgotten already, you're not a psychic this weekend, I am. You're Carlton Lassiter, head detective for the SBPD."

A snort of laughter escaped Shawn as he shook his head. "You're going to solve this case as a psychic? Lassifrass, you have no idea how this works." He waved a hand around his temple.

Lassiter glared at him. "I think after five years, I've picked up on how to fake being a psychic." He pulled out his cell phone.

"Before you call it in," Shawn held up a hand. "Let's just get this straight. We're going to solve this crime, you as a psychic and me as a detective."

"That's exactly how this is going to be solved."

Shawn nodded. "I just wanted you to hear the idea out loud, you might have decided it was crazy."

Lassiter rolled his eyes and called down to the front desk. "Yes this is C- Shawn Spencer. I'm in the east stairwell and there's a dead body here. You should call the police."


	4. Chapter 4

Within minutes the stairwell was swarming with forensics and police. Shawn had given his statement as Lassiter and Lassiter had given his as Shawn. Lassiter had also given up the shirt he'd been wearing. The blood on it needed to be cataloged with the evidence. Shawn had volunteered to run and get another one of the detective's shirts. Of course he used to opportunity to bring Lassiter the Apple Jack's t-shirt and plaid over shirt he'd packed for himself to wear the next day. He'd be lying to himself if he said it didn't amuse him. If it weren't for the dead body, Shawn might actually be laughing at the whole awkward situation.

He turned to make that observation to Lassiter, but the deep frown lines in the detective's forehead made Shawn keep that comment to himself.

"I just doesn't make any sense." Lassiter murmured as the body bag was carried out. "Except for being entirely vapid, slightly stupid and talking too much, she really wasn't that bad."

"You said she was annoying..." Shawn trailed off.

"Well, Spencer, unfortunately you can't kill people for being annoying. Not legally anyway." Lassiter snapped at him.

"Well, we'd better get to the solving part of the case." Shawn clapped his hands together and started towards the crime tape.

"Not so fast," The chief from Sacramento stepped in front of Shawn when they reached the entrance to the stairwell. "You've got no jurisdiction here, Carlton."

"But I'm the youngest head detective in department history, I've solved hundreds of cases and I'm one of the best detectives on the face of the planet." Shawn protested.

Lassiter felt a small surge of pride at the compliment Spencer had unknowingly given him.

"I can't let you work the case." The chief reiterated. "The psychic, however, he can do whatever bull crap he wants from this side of the tape. At least that's what the commissioner says." He gave a humph of dissatisfaction and went to check with forensics.

Shawn grabbed Lassiter's sleeve. "C'mon, Lassie, you've got to tell them that you can't solve the case without me. Get me in on this."

Lassiter gingerly removed Shawn's fingers and gave a small scowl. "It's not like we're joined at the hip or bfs or whatever touchy-feely crap O'Hara uses to describe relationships."

"Bffs, Lassie," Shawn gave a small shudder. "Bfs are boyfriends, bffs are Best Friends Forever."

"Either way, we're not there." Lassiter assured him.

Shawn crossed his arms. "How do you expect to solve this case without me?"

"The same way I do when you aren't here. Good old fashioned police work."

"One problem, Lassifrass, there's no policeman, station, or lab that will give you that information. You're supposed to be able to divine it from the spirits."

Lassiter gave Shawn another scowl and headed for the crime scene.

Once Shawn was sure Lassiter was occupied with "divining a solution" he headed for an empty part of the lobby. Just because he wasn't allowed to see the crime scene didn't mean that he couldn't investigate. He dialed Gus' number and counted the rings before Gus picked up. One... Two... Three...

"Do you have any idea what time it is, Shawn?" A sleepy sounding Gus answered his phone before ring four sounded.

"Dude," He gave a laugh. "a friend can't call another friend to see how camp is going and ask him to do a computer search for another person, who may or may not have been murdered?"

"It's the middle of the night, plus I'm at the annual retreat for my company, Shawn. That means no other work, which means no cases for Psych."

"Technically, this isn't a case for Psych." Shawn pointed out brightly. "They won't let me work it. I'm trying to convince Lassie to let me in on it, but he's holding out on me like Fox held out on renewing Firefly."

"I thought Lassiter was in Sacramento for the weekend at that gun lecture?"

"He is, I just happen to be here too..."

"You went to the lecture with Lassiter and he hasn't shot you yet?"

"Gus, let's just focus on the case. Lassie's working the murder and they won't let me."

What do you mean they won't let you? And why would they let Lassiter? He's miles away from even thinking about being in the right jurisdiction."

"Well..."

"What happened, Shawn? They didn't find out you weren't a psychic, did they?" Gus' voice filled with panic at the possibility.

"What? No!" Shawn assured him. "There was just kind of a situation and..."

"And what?"

"I kind of sort of pretended to be Lassie to keep him from ruining his career and to save him a lifetime of humiliation."

"You pretended to be Lassiter?"

"Yeah, and then I told everyone he was me. It would have been fine if that rookie hadn't been killed. Now they want Lassie to solve the case as a psychic. And don't lecture me on it. This is definitely one of the times that I can see the poor judgement I used."

There was silence on the line and then Gus took a deep breath. "I'll look up the rookie, Lassiter's going to need to help to pull off the psychic act."

"Thanks, buddy! I would give you a fistbump, but Willy Wonka hasn't invented the technology to transport things through the TV yet."

"This is a phone, and that was only for chocolate bars not people. You'd end up with a tiny baby fist if you did that."

"At least my hand would fit to the bottom of a Pringles can to get those tiny bits that break off." Shawn mused, then refocused. "The rookie's name was Moreno, first initial R."

"You couldn't even find out her full name?"

"She was dead, Gus. Did you want me to touch her?"

"Hasn't stopped you before."

"She's on the Sacramento force. Just find out what you can and then call me back, alright?"

"Alright, but you owe me."

"I always do, buddy."

"One more thing, Shawn."

"What's that?"

"Fox never renewed Firefly, so don't hold your breath while you wait for Lassiter to let you in on his case."

O-O-O-O

Lassiter gave some vague details to the police and then he told the chief that the spirits were tired and needed to sleep. He hated doing that, it annoyed him when Spencer did things like that, but Lassiter needed to think through things. On top of that he needed to find a way to research things about the case. He needed to find out what cases the rookie had been working. Who she had been with that night, not him obviously. Lassiter had avoided her like the plague after their conversation that afternoon.

O-O-O-O

Buzz McNab liked his job, he really did. There was only one thing he disliked, and that was manning the front desk of the police station on the weekends. It only happened once a month, but it was still McNab's least favorite part of being a uniformed officer.

The phone rang and McNab answered, expecting to hear from a senior citizen complaining about his young college age neighbors, or maybe it would be someone who was complaining because they got a speeding ticket they didn't think they deserved. He was surprised when it was Detective Lassiter.

"Good Morning, Detective. How did your lecture go yesterday?"

"Don't ask about that," Lassiter snapped over the phone. He knew this was McNab's weekend to work. He knew the schedule for the entire department. "I need you to do me a favor."

"Anything, sir."

"Run a search on a rookie officer from the Sacramento department named Rachel Moreno."

"You met someone?" As soon as the question was out of McNab's mouth he wished he could have it back.

"Just do the damn search." Lassiter snapped. "Call me back on my cell phone when you find something. Oh and McNab, don't breathe a word of this to anyone, especially the chief and O'Hara"

"Of course," McNab said, but Lassiter had already hung up.

"Who was that?" Juliet asked coming over to drop off some files.

McNab glanced up after writing down the rookie's name on a post-it. "Detective Lassiter,"

Juliet frowned. "I thought he was at his conference?"

"I thought you were supposed to be at your family picnic," McNab evaded her question.

She shrugged. "That was last night. What did Lassiter want?" She grabbed the post-it from McNab before he had a chance to react. "Who is Rachel Moreno?"

"Detective Lassiter asked me to find some information on her." McNab knew he couldn't lie to the junior detective.

"Well, you man the desk. I'll run the search and get back to him." She smiled at McNab and headed for her desk.

McNab smiled back weakly. He was so dead after Detective Lassiter got back. He'd probably be working weekends for six months straight.


	5. Chapter 5

Lassiter stayed in the hotel room while he waited for McNab to call him back. He didn't want to risk being cornered by the police chief. The man would demand results, Lassiter knew this because that's what Lassiter would do if he were in the man's position.

He had done a little digging himself using the internet. He didn't find anything useful on the department's website, but he did find the rookie's facebook. He didn't understand the idea of letting people know what you were doing at all hours of the day. He had no use to see dozens of pictures from the same party from the twelve different people that were there. The pictures all looked the same anyway. Despite having no use for the thing himself, it was useful to find information on the dead rookie. Her facebook picture was the graduation photo from her academy days. That meant she liked her job, although Lassiter had already guessed that much.

"What're you looking at?" Shawn leaned over Lassiter's shoulder to see the computer screen better.

"Damn it, Spencer!" Lassiter jumped. No matter how many times Spencer surprised him like that, it never stopped being startling.

"Is that the rookie?" Shawn ignored the detective's outburst and pointed at the screen. "When you take her out of the uniform she actually looks like a girl." The picture he had pointed at was at a bar. Rachel Moreno was sitting with a couple of other women and she was smiling. "See Lassie, you should have given her a chance. Who knows, you might have hit it off"

"A little more respect would be nice, Spencer. The girl's dead after all." Lassiter grumbled.

"Why are you on facebook? I thought you said it was, and I quote 'The biggest waste of time on the face of the planet since the invention of reality television, silly putty and Tom Cruise's movie career'."

Lassiter scowled a little. "Firstly, it is the biggest waste of time and secondly, without the police department I have to resort to more civilian forms of research."

"It's not like you work for the CIA, or the FBI." Shawn argued.

Lassiter was saved from answering that by his phone ringing. It was the SBPD number. "What do you have for me McNab?" He gave Spencer another glare and turned away from the younger man to continue the call.

"Carlton, it's me," The cheerful voice of Juliet O'Hara came over the phone.

Lassiter made a mental note to rip McNab a new one the moment he got back to Santa Barbara. The man couldn't even follow a simple instruction to not tell the chief or O'Hara.

"I volunteered to run the search for Rachel Moreno, since McNab is up at the front desk." O'Hara explained, not noticing Lassiter hadn't responded. "She's a rookie with the Sacramento department. Carlton..." O'Hara started putting two and two together. "are you doing a background check on her before you ask her out for drinks. You know the chief said that wasn't a proper use of departmental resources."

"I'm not taking her out for drinks," Lassiter told her, exasperated that everyone assumed that he was interested in the rookie. He ignored the 'I told you so' look from Spencer and continued, "I just needed some more information on her, who was her commanding officer, did she have any write ups, what was her current case. Things like that."

"Is she a suspect in a case? You know you're out of jurisdiction, Carlton. The chief has warned you about that before and I think-"

"She's dead O'Hara," Lassiter interrupted his partner.

"She's what?"

"She's dead," Lassiter repeated. "I found her in the stairwell last night. I think she was murdered and I'm just trying to figure out who might have done it."

"Oh," O'Hara's voice was small and quiet. "Isn't the department there running it's own investigation?"

For a brief second Lassiter regretted teaching O'Hara to ask so many questions. "Of course, they've just asked me to help since I'm a good detective."

"She was partnered up with David Ross," O'Hara got back on track. "they were a patrol for a neighborhood that seemed to be having drug problems." She sounded like she was reading from the computer screen. "There's not a lot of information, since she just graduated from the academy last May."

"It's a start, O'Hara. Let me know if you find anything more."

"Anything?" Shawn asked as soon as Lassiter hung up his phone. Gus hadn't called him back yet.

"I thought you were supposed to be psychic," Lassiter snapped.

"If you're going to act like that, I might just decide not to help you out." Shawn retorted.

"Like you would be of any help," Lassiter reluctantly put on the psychic's tennis shoes again, now that he had some information he could go back to the crime scene.

" Don't scuff my shoes, and if I don't help you, you can't psychically point out which one is David Ross to the chief." Shawn had to walk fast to keep up with the detective's long strides.

Lassiter didn't respond to Spencer until they reached the lobby. He looked around at the mass of people waiting to be questioned by the Sacramento PD and turned to glare at Spencer one last time. "Fine, which one is David Ross?"

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Gus had managed to sneak away from his retreat during the nature walk by telling everyone he was allergic to the flowers that scattered the trails. They had bought it and Gus was going to use the three hours it would take his co-workers to hike the trails to swing by the police station and get some information. Someone would be there who would help him, plus Gus had planned on hitting the jackal switch.

"Hey Gus!" McNab greeted him the moment he stepped through the door. "Where's Shawn today?"

"He had something else to do." Gus avoided giving a explanation for his friend's absence. "Is Juliet here?"

"Yup, she's over at her desk. Detective Lassiter called and wanted a search done, so she was working on that last I knew."

"Thanks," Gus was already alert after hitting the jackal switch, but to hear that Juliet was working on something for Lassiter made Gus suspicious. The head detective never asked for help.

Juliet glanced up from the computer. She was determined to find something more for Lassiter to work with before calling him again. When she saw Gus all by himself, she frowned. "Where's Shawn?"

"He's in Sacramento, remember." Gus figured if Juliet was doing things for Lassiter then she knew what was going on.

"Why is he in Sacramento?"

Apparently Gus had been wrong. He quickly thought through any possible stories he could make up to explain why Shawn was out of town; there was a hair convention hosted by Patrick Dempsey, the Keebler elves were giving away free cookies. These all seemed more plausible then the real reason.

"Why is he out of town in the same city with Lassiter?" Juliet had already been suspicious after her phone call with Lassiter.

Gus sighed and after fidgeting for a few minutes, he motioned for her to follow him into the conference room.

"Gus, seriously, what is going on?" Juliet didn't like being out of the loop.

"Shawn decided to stow away in Lassiter's car yesterday to keep him company at the conference this weekend."

"Okay..." Juliet could imagine Shawn thinking that stowing away would be a good idea. "What does this have to do with Rachel Moreno?"

"Shawn called me around two this morning, apparently there's been a murder at this convention that Lassiter was speaking at."

"Yes, I know that, Lassiter called me. He thinks Moreno was murdered."

"Yeah, but what he didn't tell you is that the night before, he got drunk and passed out. To save Lassiter's career Shawn posed as Lassiter for the gun safety lecture." Gus held up a hand as Juliet opened her mouth to interject. "I don't why he thought that was the best idea, but now with the murder the police in Sacramento want Lassiter to solve the case as a psychic named Shawn Spencer."

"They traded places?" Juliet thought this through. "If they're found out then the chief would have both of them fired. It could ruin Carlton's career."

"That's what I just said, Shawn saved his career."

Juliet shook her head. "I'm not talking about the lecture. There's a real case involved. If there's too much involvement from Lassiter and Shawn when they're not being themselves, the defense will file for a mistrial."

"So tell them not to help... that much, but you can't turn them in." Gus had switched from jackal mode to almost begging. If she turned them in, then everyone would be in deep trouble.

Juliet gave him a skeptical look. "If they get caught, you didn't tell me this." She pointed a finger at him. "Now help me find more information on Rachel Moreno." She pointed back towards her desk.

Gus headed towards it knowing that Shawn needed to solve the case in record speed if they were going to avoid being turned in, caught or worse.


	6. Chapter 6

Armed with a little bit more information and the identity of Moreno's partner, Spencer had pointed out a man in his mid-thirties as David Ross, Lassiter made his way around the edge of the lobby. All lectures had been put on hold until the case was closed and none of the policemen were being allowed to leave since it was an open investigation.

"Lassie, you can't just edge around the room and question David Ross quietly." Shawn whispered so that only Lassiter heard him. "You have to make a big show of the psychic revelations."

"I will not look like a jackass in front of all these people." Lassiter hissed back. He saw a gleam in Spencer's eyes and before Lassiter could react, Shawn reached out and pushed Lassiter through the crowd into the clear space in the middle of the room.

"What was that, Spencer?" He shouted a little louder then necessary. "Not another one of your crazy psychic visions."

Lassiter froze momentarily after he realized everyone in the room was staring at them.

"Careful everyone, he might hit you when he gets possessed by the spirits." Shawn warned the crowd, further drawing their attention to what was about to happen.

Lassiter gave a small growl and lunged for the younger man, grabbing him by the lapels on Lassiter's own blazer.

"You have to do it," Shawn whispered fiercely as he pretended to struggle out of the detective's grasp.

Lassiter steeled himself internally and then shoving Spencer back, turned and walked dramatically to the empty space created by the curious onlookers. He'd been forced in college to take a theatre class. He'd even dated a theatre major for a month or so, until she'd dumped him for the lead in the school play. With these experiences under his belt, Lassiter tried to make what happened next as believable as possible.

"Rachel Moreno didn't fall down the stairs," He halfheartedly shouted out, waving an arm about and earning a few confused looks from the crowd. Lassiter ducked his head and was about to run out of the room. He looked back to Spencer and saw that the younger man was actually encouraging him.

"What do you mean she didn't fall?" Shawn snapped out, acting out the part of disgruntled detective perfectly.

Lassiter clenched his jaw to keep himself from throttling the psychic right there in front of everyone.

Shawn could see Lassiter wasn't comfortable making a scene with everyone watching. All that meant was that Shawn would need to help him out a little bit. "Spencer, don't you dare flail about. You know I can't stand your psychic visions."

Everyone was still watching them. Lassiter lunged for Spencer again, this time grabbing the blazer lapels and tossing him into the cleared space as well. "She didn't fall!" Lassiter stated again, keeping his voice light even though he wanted to deck Spencer for putting him in this position. "She was-" Lassiter didn't finish his thought. He instead shoved Spencer backwards causing the younger man to fall to the ground. "She was pushed!" He proclaimed, forgetting briefly that the entire room was watching them.

Shawn got up quickly and put on a scowl. "That's just an assumption!" He argued back, even though he knew there would be evidence on the body to prove that Moreno had been pushed.

"Look for scrapes on her hands!" Lassiter continued to shout. "She brace her own fall!"

"I think you can stop shouting," The Sacramento police chief informed Lassiter.

"I'm not shouting!" Lassiter realized that he actually was and instead of letting himself get embarrassed he walked briskly out of the room.

hcyspsych

Shawn followed him and once they were in the elevator, turned to give him a high five. "Lassie, that was epic! You've been taking notes you sly dog. I mean it was sort of a slow start."

"Just be quiet, Spencer." Lassiter snapped, starting to feel the long overdue flush creep its way up his neck.

"You got them thinking about the possibility of murder though."

"We did that last night by telling them that she was murdered." Lassiter reminded him.

"Well, yeah, but now we've done it officially... psychically."

Lassiter could have throttled the psychic right then and there, but his phone rang and he hoped that O'Hara would have some more information for him. "What is it?" He snapped into his phone.

Shawn perked up when Lassiter answered his phone. "Is it Jules? Tell her I say hi. Better yet, put her on speaker." He reached for Lassiter's phone to push the button.

Lassiter shoved Spencer into the wall of the elevator. "No of course that wasn't Spencer. Why would he be in Sacramento with me?"

"I don't know, Mr. Spencer. Why don't you explain that to me." Juliet emphasised calling Lassiter by the psychic's name. "Gus came in to the station to see if I needed any help."

Lassiter gave Shawn a glare as they walked off the elevator. When they were safely inside the hotel room, he turned it on speaker.

"He only told me about what you guys are doing because he folds faster then McNab at police poker nights." O'Hara didn't sound too happy.

"To be fair, Jules, I had to save Lassie's career."

"By ensuring that if you're found out, you both are ruined forever." She was beginning to sound exasperated.

"Please, Jules," There was no pleading tone in Shawn's voice. Just a simple request for her help.

Juliet sighed. She always agreed to help Shawn, always. "I didn't know what you wanted me to investigate more, so I did a search to see if Moreno had a boyfriend."

"She didn't," Lassiter assured her.

"Right... well you're going to need to get me more information on anything."

"We haven't gotten a chance to question anyone yet." Lassiter left out the reason why, but Shawn grabbed the chance to tell Juliet what had happened.

"Lassie had a vision, it was a great homage to me. They say that flattery is the best form of imitation."

"Imitation is the best form of flattery," Lassiter corrected him.

Shawn shrugged. "I've heard it both ways. Oh! You're going to have to throw a couple of those around. If you want to be me."

"I don't want to be you, I want to be me. I want to carry a gun around and get to shoot people." Lassiter burst out.

"Well, just call me when you have something more concrete to work with." Juliet had to hang up the phone before Lassiter and Shawn heard the giggles she had been stifling.

hcyspsych

"Let's go talk to David Ross," Shawn grabbed a coke out of the minibar and headed for the door.

"Put that back, Spencer. I'm not shelling out the money for it."

"Don't Spencer me, Lassie. Technically it's my minibar now. Plus the Sacramento Department is paying for your stay."

"It is coming out of your next pay check. The Sacramento PD doesn't have money to just throw away on overpriced soft drinks."

"Let's just go solve this case. On Monday we have to drive back to Santa Barbara or else the chief finds out."

Lassiter glanced up, panic flashing across his face. "She can't ever find out, Spencer."

Shawn's eyes mirrored the panic, as he thought his statement through. "She'd tell my dad. I would be so dead."

"I would be fired. Ruined, they'd take away my Glock." Lassiter's hand unconsciously went to where his shoulder holster normally sat.

"Well, we'll just have to solve the case." Shawn said firmly, the fear of facing his dad slightly creeping into his voice.

They took the elevator back down. Lassiter was ready to complain that the stairs were still blocked. In the event of a fire, that could be deadly, but there were bigger issues at hand.

It didn't take them long to locate David Ross. He was sitting by himself in a corner of the hotel bar. No drink in front of him, just a glass of water and the day's paper.

Shawn slid into the side of the booth across the table from him. "You're David Ross,"

Ross glanced up at them. "You're Lassiter, that guy with the gun lecture."

"Yeah, that's-" Lassiter spoke up and then quickly changed what he had been going to say. "him... I'm Shawn Spencer psychic detective. I like brightly colored shirts and have a weird relationship with my best friend."

"It's called a bromance," Shawn hissed and elbowed Lassiter in the ribs. "We know that you were Rachel's partner, we were hoping you could tell us more about her."

"How'd you know I was Rachel's partner?"

"I'm psychic," Lassiter drawled.

"She was a good kid," Ross ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't find out until this morning when they told everyone."

"Where were you last night," Lassiter asked, his interrogation instincts kicking in.

Ross looked surprised. "You think I pushed her? No, I was at home. I live in town so I'm staying at my apartment."

"Can anyone verify that?" Shawn put on his cop voice. He couldn't let Lassiter upstage him.

"Not unless you psychic can talk to dogs,"

"He once talked to a cat, the owner was murdered. Now the cat lives with one of the rookie cops. Spencer was gracious enough to give it to him as a wedding gift."

"It was that or the thing ended up in a flea ridden animal shelter. Nothing gracious about it."

"I think you're being very modest, Spencer. Something you never do."

Lassiter wanted to point out that the psychic had just insulted himself, but looked back at Ross. "I'm sensing you were working some kind of drug related case."

Ross nodded, "We were trying to make a dent in drug use in a certain neighborhood, but I doubt this case has anything to do with that."

Lassiter noticed the way Ross kept rubbing his left hand, as if something weren't right with it. "When did you sign the papers?" He asked.

Ross nearly jumped out of the booth in surprise. "What?"

"When did you sign the divorce papers. I'm sensing it wasn't finalized until recently."

"Last week," Ross sighed.

"Did Rachel know about it?" Shawn asked.

"Of course she did," Lassiter answered.

Ross gave him a puzzled look, but nodded. "She was my ride along. She knew everything that was going on."

"So, your relationship with her was platonic? Because I've known detectives who have taken advantage of their partners." Shawn gave Lassiter a side glance and was pleased to see the older man flushing appropriately. Take that for jabbing at his and Gus' bromance.

"No! Nothing hinky was going on, Rachel was a good kid. She reminded me a lot of my little sister."

"She talked a lot," Lassiter pointed out.

"She wanted to know things." Ross defended his chatty partner.

"Apparently she wanted to know everything." Lassiter grumbled.

"Look," Ross was getting upset. "I don't know who pushed Rachel, but it wasn't me. So take your psychic crap and go bother someone else. Like the guy who was hitting on her in the bar two nights ago."

"Do you know who that was?"

"No, all I know is that he was an older detective who was drunk. She told me she didn't even know his name. She ended up leaving before she found out."

"Alright, but don't leave town." Shawn reminded Ross as he shoved Lassiter out of the booth. "We'll probably want to talk to you again." Once they were out of earshot he turned to Lassiter. "C'mon, let's go find this guy who was hitting on her."

"No need to..." Lassiter looked a little sick to his stomach. "I think I was the one hitting on her."

"You're our biggest lead?"

"Spencer, I did not push her."

"Well, you did find the body and now we know that you hit on her."

"I was very, very drunk and I was in the bar all last night before I found her. I was there because you were having a party in the hotel room."

"I was thinking that you didn't do it, because you're Carlton Lassiter the best head detective in the history of the SBPD." Shawn mumbled. "Can we get some lunch? I only had pop-tarts for breakfast."


	7. Chapter 7

Shawn found the luncheon provided by the convention. He loaded up a plate with pasta, grabbed an extra piece of garlic bread and dug in happily.

Lassiter was sitting across from him in a table by the corner. He was watching the room. "We're no closer to finding out who did it." He griped at Shawn.

"Well, technically you have motive, means and opportunity." Shawn pointed out before taking a big bite of ravioli.

"I do not!" Lassiter objected.

"You told her you were a detective in the bar, you have two arms capable of pushing someone, and you were alone last night."

"So were half the men with me in the bar. Besides, I talked with her yesterday afternoon and she didn't say a word about me a normal detective, only a psychic one."

Shawn took another bite and had to wait until he swallowed to ask the next question. "How long had she been dead?"

"You're the actual psychic, you tell me." Lassiter snapped, getting frustrated with the whole situation.

Shawn rolled his eyes and turned in his seat to survey the room. "The spirits are being very stubborn and they won't tell me directly. They tell me that I should go talk to that man right there." Shawn pointed out Burns, the rookie who had helped him find the lecture hall.

Lassiter caught himself before he did a spit-take with his bottle of water. "Sweet Justice, Spencer. That rookie looks more incompetent then McNab."

"He's a puppy, Lassie. Eager to please and easy to manipulate." Shawn assured him. "Excuse me, I have to go be you." Shawn heard Lassiter swearing at him as he got up from the table.

Burns was sitting alone on the other side of the room. He looked up in surprise as Shawn sat down across from him. "D-d-Detective Lassiter," He stuttered.

"Easy, Burns." Shawn gave the kid a reassuring smile. "You alright?"

Burns nodded. "Y-y-yes,"

"I just wanted to check up on you. You must have graduated with Rachel from academy."

Again Burns nodded. "She was a friend of mine." There was no stutter, just sadness now.

"Spencer is working on this case," Shawn directed Burns' gaze to where Lassiter still sat. "He's a psychic."

"The chief says psychics are a crock full of crap."

"I know someone who would agree with him." Shawn actually felt sorry for Burns, it would be horrible if anyone from the Santa Barbara force was murdered. "Have you heard anything about the case? The coroner's report must have come out."

Burns nodded sadly. "Dr. Allen put her time of death right before Mr. Spencer found the body. If he'd gotten there sooner-"

Shawn cut him off there. "Don't, don't think about it." He stood and gave the rookie's shoulder a squeeze. "If you think of anything else, even if you think it would be small, just let us know."

Burns nodded again.

"And buy yourself some chocolate." Shawn ordered him. He motioned for Lassiter to follow him out.

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"What'd the kid tell you?" Lassiter demanded as soon as they were out of the room.

"That you are a crock full of crap and Moreno was killed somewhere between fifteen to thirty minutes before you found her." Shawn lead the way to the stairwell. The crime tape was up and a uniformed officer was there to make sure no one crossed it.

Lassiter grabbed Shawn's arm and pulled him back. "What do you mean a crock full of crap?"

Shawn shrugged out of his grip. "That's what the chief thinks about psychics."

A light went on in Lassiter's brain. "Spencer, damn it, the chief." He looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to them.

"I know right? You two would be peas in a pod if you worked here."

"No, shut up and listen. I saw the chief, going up the elevator that's why I took the stairs."

"Because you were afraid of him." There was a twinkle of amusement in Shawn's eyes.

Lassiter scowled. "No, because I hadn't gotten my morning run in."

Shawn made a face. "That is an image I never needed to think about. Thanks, Lassieface."

Lassiter ignored him and continued. "Why would the man take the elevator. He's staying on the second floor."

"The fact you know that, is slightly disturbing. Plus, it's not illegal to be lazy." Shawn pointed out.

"Even if he didn't do it, he could have heard something."

"Lassie, you've got to learn to stick to your theories. Especially if you're going to be me. Have you ever heard me retract a theory, no matter how ridiculous it sounded."

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "I do not need to be lectured by you, especially not now."

"Well, when you're feeling up for one, just let me know, or ask my dad. He's got a whole catalog of them."

"Since the chief is a reasonable man who thinks psychics are a boat load of shenanigans and stupidity, I doubt he'll respond to me questioning him." Lassiter looked put out at that fact.

"No need to fret, I'll question him."

"No, no way, Spencer."

"Don't be a worked up alcoholic, Lassie. I wouldn't interrogate him. Just ask him questions man to man."

"Petulant Child to Man."

"Don't insult the chief." Shawn shook his head.

"Don't forget that you're putting my reputation on the line when you question people." Lassiter hissed.

"Detective Lassiter?"

The duo turned slowly from where they'd been talking quietly in the corner and saw the chief watching them carefully.

"Detective Lassiter, I was hoping I could talk to you for a moment." The chief outstretched an arm and motioned for Shawn to follow him.

Lassiter tilted his head to the side as he saw a scratch down the chief's arm under his suit jacket. He almost grabbed Spencer's sleeve to tell him about it, but he wasn't really sure what it meant exactly.

Shawn saw the scratch too, and since he wasn't concerned with offending people, at all, unlike a certain Irish detective, Shawn decided to say something about it, as an ice breaker. "That scratch looks pretty nasty, have you gotten it looked at by a doctor?"

The chief pulled his sleeve down over his arm. "No, haven't had time."

"Well, when I had one like that it was because of a cat that I- I mean Spencer, stole from a crime scene and used to divine clues about a murder."

"Crock full of crap," The chief grumbled.

"Do you have a cat, sir?"

"That's beside the point, Lassiter, focus for a moment."

Lassiter watched the chief talking with Spencer and that's when he remembered something from that night in the bar, not the one where he'd gone upstairs and found the rookie dead in the stairwell. The one before that, where he'd be drunk, Moreno had been sitting at the bar and he had flirted with her... and then she'd been pulled away. He wanted to think that it had been her partner that had pulled her away, especially after the information David Ross had given them when they had questioned him.

"So you see, I think on Monday we'll have to let everyone go and pursue a different line of investigation." The chief was still talking with Spencer.

Lassiter would have to wait until the chief had left to talk to Spencer about what he had remembered. His cell phone rang, and Lassiter answered it quickly when he saw it was O'Hara's number.

"Carlton, I was making a call to the Sacramento PD to ask who I should send flowers to from the department,"

"O'Hara, we're not going to send sympathy flowers to a possible murderer," Lassiter hissed into his phone.

"I called because desk clerks are usually very gossipy, especially to other police officers."

"So did you learn anything useful or do you just like wasting the minutes on my cell phone plan?"

"There are three female officers that are due in the month of August. How funny is that?"

"I meant that was relevant to the case, O'Hara."

"Oh, right, sorry. Well, apparently Rachel Moreno was working on this drug task force with David Ross, her partner. The chief was going to cut their patrol, stating that it wasn't worth the money."

"How is that relevant..."

"He decided to cut it after the two of them made an arrest. They arrested the son of the police commissioner. I guess he'd been mixed up in some of the gangs in that neighborhood."

"Why wouldn't that have been in the news, or the press?"

"Everything's been hush, hush. No one is supposed to know."

"Thanks, O'Hara, and next time I go out of town, you're coming with me family picnic or not."

Shawn was almost ready to push the chief down the stairs. The man was talking his ear off, about ridiculously boring police work. The exact things that bored him about detectiveship. He glanced over and saw Lassiter hang up the phone and look over to him. When their eyes met, Shawn saw Lassiter had the strangest look in his eyes.

Lassiter swallowed nervously, he knew what had happened now, and he couldn't think of any other way to let Spencer know what happened without alerting the chief. Taking a deep breath he raised a hand to his temple.

"Rachel? Rachel is that you?" He felt like an idiot, but he had certainly gotten the attention of the chief.

"What is it, Spencer, another vision?" Spencer sounded legitimately surprised.

"Rachel's speaking to me," Lassiter jerked his way over to the chief and Spencer. He would destroy every video tape from the security system after this, but he didn't back down. He grabbed the chief's arm and pulled him towards the more open part of the lobby. People were coming down from lunch and the place was beginning to get crowded again.

"This is a crock full of crap!" The chief protested trying to yank his arm out of Lassiter's grasp.

"No!" Lassiter snapped, deciding to take a more Lassitarian approach to his 'vision' "You're idea of covering up a misdemeanor is a crock full of crap." Oh, it felt wonderful to say things his way. "Rachel Moreno was an upstanding officer who was set on doing her duty correctly, and when her partner made an arrest you slapped them on the wrist and tried to send Moreno back to desk duties."

"That's preposterous," The chief objected.

"Your face is preposterous!" Shawn cried out and then tried to put a stern look on his face. "Continue, Spencer."

"Did you argue at the bar? I know you pulled her away two nights ago. You pulled her away and she tried to reason with you. She scratched you when you wouldn't let her go and you told her to meet you in your hotel room so you could discuss it."

"That doesn't mean I pushed her," The chief was a bright shade of red, the kind of red that Lassiter usually turned when Shawn upstaged him at a crime scene.

"Maybe you told her she should go upstairs the party in Lassiter's hotel room, whatever the reason when she turned her back, you shoved her down the stairs where she hit her head against the wall and died."

Lassiter had almost cornered the chief against the main desk in the lobby. The policemen standing around them were wide eyed and a few of them had reached for their guns.

"Rachel Moreno was going to be a great cop, and you ruined it for political power." Lassiter was glaring daggers.

The chief looked over his shoulder to where Shawn was standing. "You understand, don't you Detective Lassiter? A man like you would know the importance of being on the good side of the commissioner."

Shawn shook his head. "You've got me confused with someone else, Detective Lassiter is a man of high integrity, an advocate for truth and he always gets his man even if he wishes he weren't right."

Lassiter gave Shawn a small look of gratitude. "Someone cuff him."

Fifty sets of handcuffs flew into view.

As the chief was handcuffed and driven to the station, Lassiter looked to Shawn. "Thank you,"

"Thank me? You solved the case, well you and Jules... and me... and Buzz... and Gus a little bit. So yes, thank me."

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "I'll be happy to head back to Santa Barbara tomorrow."

"Oh that's right, we're driving back! I made a new play list on your ipod. It's got some awesome songs. I hope you don't mind I downloaded some songs on your itunes."


End file.
